


Good Mythical Madhouse

by Enterthetadpole, Whatsastory



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Don't copy to another site, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Solitary Confinement
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-01-05 13:17:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18366788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enterthetadpole/pseuds/Enterthetadpole, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatsastory/pseuds/Whatsastory
Summary: No fans. No crew. Just each other and a whole lot of time, and the cameras are always rolling.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fanbabble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanbabble/gifts).



It’s more like their studio than not in both of their minds, isn’t it? Two chairs and a desk. A camera capturing every one of the small nods and sips on their cups of water. It’s only when Rhett clears his throat that Link can hear the echo that bounces off the bare walls. No crew. No props to catch his eye while Rhett is speaking. Just the two of them and a camera. It almost felt like being back in the grinding days and nights of their gigs in small towns on the long way to California. Who says that fate doesn’t find a twisted way to bring you back to your roots?

The red light blinks. The recording begins, though there are already multiple video feeds showing every single angle from the two men. The entire stunt had been hinted about over the last few weeks of their show. Little words like  _ A secret place will be discovered _ and  _ Can we make it for 60 days? _ all over their Twitter pages. Then of course the instagram with just simple door with a padlock on it. Speculation was higher than anything, and the views were up with each passing day until March 1. 

Link hates to admit it, but Rhett may have been right that this crazy idea working to get them back on all of the Mythical Beasts good graces. Some other type of drama to get their minds off of what happened in the last couple of months. Drama they can control for just a little bit.

“Good mythical morning,” Rhett calls out. “Or maybe it’s afternoon or night? We really have no freakin’ idea!”

The taller man glances over to Link who can’t help but chuckle at that. It’s uncomfortably true that they have no windows all throughout the bunker. The only way that they have a general understanding of time is the one hour allowed to go online a day. The rest of the 60 days would not consist of anything resembling a clock. Well, that’s in case they decided to buy it with the weekly budget that they are allotted. 

“So as many of you know, because you voted for it, we’ve got the next sixty days to spend together in isolation,” Link explains, already feeling the pang of regret bubbling in his stomach. “We’ve got a hundred bucks a week to spend on necessities. And let me tell you, a hundred bucks isn’t anything to write home about. In fact, with that little, we probably can’t afford to write home. Not that we have anyway to send the letters.” 

“That’s right,” Rhett butts in. “A hundred bucks a week for food, toiletries, and anything else we need. Starting with bedding, which we’ve used thirty dollars of to buy an air mattress. A single. Air. Mattress. That I have to share with him,” he sighs and jabs his thumb in Link’s direction. “I’m already tired from thinking of all of the sleep I’m gonna lose when he takes up all of the space.” 

“Hey, now. You knew what you were gettin’ yourself into when you signed on for this,” Link reminds with a coy smile. 

Though Rhett smiles back good naturedly, he’s biting his tongue. He didn’t exactly sign on for this for the fun of it, did he? He signed on out of necessity for the show because Link… well, that’s not really important just now. What is important, however, is that they present as a united front. The same Rhett and Link that they’ve always been. A team. Best friends. Brothers. 

“That left us with seventy dollars. With it, we decided to buy a blanket, a couple’a tooth brushes and tooth paste, body wash, shampoo, toilet paper and we had to spend the rest on food. It’s slim pickin’s this week. I, of course, got peanut butter. Rhett, of course, got beef jerky. And a few other staples to keep us goin’. It’s gonna be tough, Rhett. You up for this?” 

Rhett smiles back, though there is a tenseness to it that Link can't ignore. The cameras record everything, except for the bathroom, thank God. Link can already imagine the giddy speculation that the viewers have. Bets being made as to how long until one of them shouts at the other, or worse still makes the sign towards the camera in the front room to get them the hell out of there.

Yet still, they are starting off on a good foot. This is a chance to reconnect with their friendship after what happened. A way to trust and respect each other again. That's a good think, right? Yes. Of course it is. 

“Yeah, I think I'm up for it,” Link answers back. His blue eyes looking back into the camera as it captures each and every thing that they both say and don't say. “The items we buy online will be sent through a service elevator once a week. It's going to be hard not trying to escape that way.”

Link gives a small chuckle that feels hollow with no crew to react. Rhett isn't much help either. He's already  looking like he wants to wrap things up for now and focus on getting used to the place they'll call home for the next 60 days. 

“The rooms are as follows,” he says instead. “We have kitchen, though it’s so freakin’ small it’s more like a kitchenette. We have a common space, which is where we’re recording now, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It’s tight quarters. I haven’t been this cooped up with Link since college, and even back then I could leave if I needed to. This is… tough. But, I mean, I’ve been doomsday preppin’ for a while now. I can handle it. Put money on it now, Link’s gonna break first.” 

“Hey man!” Link scolds with a swat to Rhett’s shoulder. “Will not! I’ve got the nerve if steel. You ever seen me try ya meditate? I know you have. I’ve got the zen zone on lock. You… you’re gonna go crazy. I’m sure of it.” 

Zen zone. He should have used that before instead of… god, whatever. Rhett looks around the cramped room again, dreading this little experiment, but he’s here, and he’s going to give it his all. He’s competitive to a fault, and he won’t be the first to break. Not by a long shot. 

At some point the camera makes a noise that causes them both to stop looking at each other and back to the task at hand. Faces turn towards the lense and the smiles are back. Slightly less pasted on then before, but still smiles nonetheless. Neither of them have a script to work with in this. It was decided that with the reality of this stunt there wasn’t the need for it. Also, it’s not like they would be able to have the crew there to talk about in some writer’s room. 

“Guess we’ve run out of things to say,” Rhett offers, almost apologetically. “We’ll keep ya’ll posted to our thoughts on Twitter and instagram when we can.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay!

Link stands up to turn off the camera, a sigh escaping his lips that turns into a full body deflation. Without the cameras trained on them, he knows that soon Rhett will retreat back into himself and away from Link, just the same as he’s been doing for the past few weeks. Or hell, maybe even longer. The more it goes on, the deeper the wound in Link’s back sinks. It’s tough. It’s really tough when the one person you thought you’d always have in your corner turns away, leaving behind a gaping void that’s impossible not to feel. He can only hope that this experiment brings them back together, and he’s already vowed to make it as positive as possible.

“So,” he says casually, hoping that it isn’t obvious that he’s trying to force a conversation. “Here we are. Whatcha think about our home away from home?”

“S’fine,” Rhett shrugs and stands up from their small table, and the way he bumps his knee lightly on the too-short frame, a wave of nostalgia washes over him. Memories of sitting in a basement in a small space not unlike this… but those were happier times. Times when he felt like the two of them were indestructible. A force to be reckoned with. Now they’re more like a spring rain where they were once a category five hurricane.

“What do you think the challenges will be like? Physical? Memory?”

It takes a lot for Rhett not to be snarky. Something like ‘well, you sure know about being physical,’ just begging to roll of his tongue, but he forces it down, just the same as he’s done for too long now. Always forcing something away. That’s his whole life now, it seems.

“Dunno, man. Whatever it is, I’m sure to kick your ass,” he says instead.

He doesn’t smile as he says it, but just that little amount of joking is enough to reinvigorate Link. It breathes life into him, and for the first time in a while, he can smile and laugh, genuinely and without needing to think about it.

“Oh, that’s what you think. I came to win, baby!”

Rhett chuckles, but the joy doesn't meet his eyes. There is a shadow of sadness within the green gaze that Link is getting way too used to seeing. Link ends up mirroring the mood of the room. The steady silence even more noticeable now that the larger camera has stopped whirring. Rhett runs a large hand through his tangle of wavy hair and then settles back his hand on his right thigh.

“We should probably get ready for the first delivery,” Link suggests.

“That could be anytime from now,” Rhett mutters back. “Besides we have no way of telling what time it is anyway to check any sort of shipment. Unless you want to have our hour of internet early or - “

Link shakes his head no, and Rhett stops his sentence. There is silence again. Both of them are hating every single moment of it.

“We could...talk?” Link asks. The high note at the end sounds hopeful through the gloom.

“Maybe later,” Rhett answers. He gets up and starts heading to the empty kitchen and turns on the water tap in the sink. Then he cups his hands under the running water and takes a few gulps from his palms.

“Ok,” Link replies, so quietly that it’s hard to tell if Rhett even has heard him. “Then I guess I’m going to...head into the bedroom for…”

There are no soft places for Link to lay down yet. The bed should be in the shipment for today, but Rhett is right. Who knows how long that may take to get to them. A few minutes? Hours?

“Yeah, you do that, Link.”

His tone has an air of finality to it, like he couldn’t think of a better idea than for Link to be a room away. As much as Link feels like he deserves that, it still causes an amalgamation of anger and pain. It’s like, well, okay. So he fucked up, and he gets that. But damn, it’s not like Rhett’s without sin. He’s done a lot of stupid shit over the years, and not just when they were kids that didn’t know any better. And maybe Link’s a little done with biting his tongue. Maybe he doesn’t want to sit and stare at a wall until this all blows over. He doesn’t want a fight. But he doesn’t want silence, either.

“You’re gonna have to talk to me at some point, you know,” Link says just above a whisper. The threat of a crackled voice lacing his words, but from frustration and the desperate want to take it all back.

“We’re talkin’.”

“No. We aren’t. Not really. Look, I know…” he takes a few steps toward Rhett, and it’s not lost on him the way he stiffens up and crosses his arms across his chest. Link clears his throat and shakes his head. “I know I made a mistake-”

“Pretty big fuckin’ mistake,” Rhett chastises, mentally kicking himself for cursing. Hopefully this whole conversation won’t air.

“I know,” Link winces. “I know. But Rhett… you’re my best friend. And I know that what I did hurt you, too. I know it did. But I’m hurting, too. There’s a lot that I have to sort through in my head, you know? I just wish… well, I just wish that you were there to help me pick through the pieces. You’ve always been there and now…”

The roughness in his voice sends a pang if guilt through Rhett’s heart. It does. He’s not a monster. And when Link’s eyes start to water and he buries his face in his open palms, well that makes him want to cry right along side of him. But he’s not ready to forgive and he’s not sure that he can get forget.

“Link… god, I’m still here, okay? It’s just… you were reckless and you put us both in danger. I just can’t pretend like everything is okay when it isn’t. Nothing is for sure right now. Not a thing. And we can’t fix it with a snap of our fingers. There’s a lot we can’t fix right now.”

“But can’t we try, Rhett? Just… baby steps. Can we do that? Can we please? I’m damn near beggin’ you. I’ll get on my knees-”

“Stay standing, please,” Rhett cuts him off with a glare.

Oh. So it’s like that.

“I meant in a proverbial sense…”

There’s a long, tense silence. Neither of them move. Neither of them speak. They’re at a standoff. Two opposite sides. One, melting from the inside out with rage. The other, crumbling piece by piece until he’s sure that there won’t be anything left but dust.

Rhett twitches first. It's his left leg that starts to bounce. Restless legs and all that, and Link breaks apart just a little bit more. There isn't enough video surveillance in the universe that can capture their pain. A life together ripped apart by Link trying to just figure shit out. Forty years of careful consideration for his actions and one stupid reckless decision was all that it took to destroy the bond that he had with his best friend. Their brotherhood on fucking life support.

“Can we start this conversation again?” Link sighs. “Maybe after lunch or...dinner? Breakfast? Seriously what the  _ hell _ time is it?”

Rhett snorts in spite of himself. Leg still bouncing along as they circle this awful situation. Then he points at the camera closest to them.

“Your language is gonna rile up all the fans,” Rhett smirks.

“They know we're not angels,” Link grumbles back. “Well, especially not me lately at least.”

“You’re not a bad person,” Rhett offers before he can really even stop himself. He’s not sure why he’s said it, but the little quirk of Link’s lips make it worth it, even if he hadn’t really wanted to tellhim as much.

“Can you do me a favor, Rhett? I know it might be askin’ too much, but can you just remember that whenever you get to hatin’ me again?”

Rhett opens and closes his mouth more than once, searching and racking his brain for anything, any little semblance of words that could wipe that look from Link’s face. It’s awful and twisted and sad, and it’s one that’s nearly become permanent.

“I’ll remember,” Rhett whispers, and Link gives him a nod before he leaves the room for the solitude he’d offered Rhett only moments before.

Link opens his mouth again, but before he can say another word there is a chime of the large service elevator in the front of the place. Within another moment both of them are heading over just in time to see the doors open to reveal a large set of packages. A few random labels show an air mattress and some shower supplies. A few dishes and cups. Some cheap linens and towels. Some snacks and sweets. Nothing too fancy to start, but it would definitely get them through the next week without breaking their budget.

They work in silence as they get the air mattress full of air and the off assortment of food placed in the cabinets. There was a small refrigerator, but that would be for week two to start to fill up if needed. The cameras captured every moment as they slowly made this place more of a home. Even if they weren't talking, it wasn't ever really needed to communicate. That came from knowing each other for as long as they did. Even with all of the anger, you just couldn't erase that type of understanding each other. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the comments! They really help encourage us! ❤️

Dinner is prepared and eaten quickly; peanut butter sandwiches don’t require much prep work. Rhett finished his first, to neither man’s surprise, but to Link’s genuine astonishment, he doesn’t rush away from the counter they had laid their plates on. Instead, he waits for Link to eat his last few bites, leaning down and cupping his jaw with an open hand.

“What’re you starin’ at?” Link asks with as much amusement as he can muster.

“Tryin’ to figure that out, Link,” Rhett grins back and Link rolls his eyes. Rhett never did grow up. “I’m tryin’ to think of a way not to make our sleeping situation awkward,” he followed up seriously.

“What’s there to feel awkward about? S’not the first time we’ve shared a bed,” Link shrugs, like it should be obvious, because to him…it is.

“Yeah, well things aren’t exactly the same now, are they?”

His words are like a bullet. They’re mean and hateful and so damn southern stereotypical that it’s disgusting. Backwoods and evil, really. Link glares at him, hoping that if he puts enough energy into it that Rhett will feel real physical pain. Fuck him, and fuck his close minded, stupid-

“It’s kind of cold in here, and we only have one blanket. We’re gonna have to… like freakin’ cuddle for warmth or something,” Rhett adds off handedly, eyes leaving Link’s to stare into the distance absentmindedly. “S’gonna feel at least a little weird, I would think.”

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Okay, well that’s… that’s better, Link thinks. That’s something he can live with. An idea that’s not threatening to derail decades of friendship in one swoop. Link can understand where he’s coming from, because truth be told, he hadn’t considered that, either.

“It’s not that cold,” Link tries, but Rhett only scoffs. 

“Please. We’re under freaking ground. It’s chilly, at best. But don’t worry, Link. I’m a pretty warm guy.”

What was that he said about not making it awkward? At least they’re talking, anyway. That’s a start, even if the middle and ending is still centuries away. Or so if seems. Why did it have to be like this? Link wonders this, and Rhett does too, but in a much more sour way. It’s as if Rhett has somehow shifted his entire point of view since Link made that mistake. As if finally taking the rose colored glasses of everything that allowed their friendship to be so free flowing and natural into something strained.  _ Strained.  _ That’s a good word for how the entire world feels now. How their bones and muscles and smiles react whenever they have to spend any more than the necessary time together. The show is easy to deal with after all of these years. Between the crew and the routine both men can almost forget how still the air is after the both forget to continue talking.

“You tired enough to try to get some sleep then?” Link asks. His cheek muscles seem unable to relax enough to make the question seem without hidden meaning. Like the closeness, even if it’s just for warmth can be a way to get close enough to act like nothing has changed. They  _ could _ be in the same bed. Like old times, right? When they were children and would fall asleep after pretending that the bed and sheets were the caverns of a cave. When they were broke and still pushing along on the road playing and singing at dive bars and smokey strip clubs.

Rhett nods, looking at his own hands instead of into the blue eyes. Another turn and Link can only see the retreating back. It’s something that he still is getting used to, though he hates to admit it. Rhett leaving him without another word. It’s just  _ not _ what they do. They always talk. Always take that time when they know everything is going wrong to lift a hand and touch the other one’s shoulder. There wouldn’t need to be any question to ask if they needed to sit down and figure things out. They just knew and silently made a promise to find time within the next couple of hours to talk it out. Now, that just doesn’t exist anymore. The knowing that something was wrong is still there. That could never go away. No matter how much Link presses it down and Rhett just absolutely ignores it. What had disappeared is the working things through.

Link gives him a good few minutes, waiting idly and dancing his eyes across the barren walls if only for something to occupy his mind. If he looks hard enough, maybe he can count each and every crack in the wall, or better yet, make out distorted pictures in the worn paint. When that fails to keep his attention, he turns to his fingernails and picks away at falsely perceived dirt.

After what he hopes is long enough for Rhett to settle in, he makes his way quickly but quietly into their shared bedroom, and takes note of his friend pressed as far against the wall as possible without melding into the plaster. Link peels off his jeans, opting to stick with the t shirt and boxer briefs for pajamas; he’s too tired after their first day to get a shower and change properly. He can only hope he’s got enough clothes on for Rhett’s comfort.

“Hey, brother,” he mumbles and lowers himself down, tugging at the blanket and taking precaution not to press skin to skin.

“Hey,” is all he gets back.

He can’t help it, he doesn’t want to be weird or make Rhett uncomfortable, but it doesn’t stop him from laying on his side and facing the other man. He folds his hands under his head after he slides his glasses off and folds them gently on the floor next to their mattress. He’s staring, and it’s a little awkward for the both of them, but it’s been far too long since he’s been able to do this. The dim lighting makes for a perfect ambiance, he thinks, gives his skin a healthy glow.

“You were right… I’m cold,” Link offers, finally feeling the chill that settles into his skin.

“Someday you’ll realize that I generally am. Been tellin’ you that for years. Someday I’m sure you’ll learn to listen to me.”

It might be a jab. It might not be. But Link smiles anyway, and he doesn’t try to hide the exaggerated way his eyes roll. This is good. He’s sure. Teasing is on the road to recovery.

“Ah, shut up, Rhett. Just leave me to freeze to death over here. Tell my mama I love her.”

Rhett snorts as he tosses a bit more of the thin blanket onto Link’s chest and shoulders. Then with a soft grunt Rhett turns so that his back is facing Link and gives a small sigh. The quiet of the place presses in from all sides as they lay there. Link all the sudden doesn’t feel nearly as tired as he did a few minutes ago. It doesn’t help that now that he really takes a moment to feel around the foot of the mattress that he realizes that Rhett’s legs are dangling off the edge of the bed. His bare feet are probably cold.

“Your mama always liked me better anyway,” Rhett whispers in the darkness. He enjoys the slight shake of the air mattress with what must be silent giggles from Link. Then within another few minutes they both are still, and soon Link, as always, falls asleep first. The steady rumble of his breaths flow in and out in a lulling way that even with as angry as Rhett has been with him over the last couple of months, he can’t but find endearing. Slowly Rhett twists to face him, but he knows there’s no real concern about waking Link up. The man could fall and stay asleep practically anywhere. Sure enough Link doesn’t stop his snores even when the cheap air mattress shifts as a man way to long and lanky shuffles himself to watch his best friend slumber. The way to wide mouth opened just enough to be cartoonishly adorable, and all the while the cameras whirl and buzz.

It’s times like this that Rhett is able to see Link clearly. Not the older man exposed for the world to see, but instead in sleep there is a youthful glow that encircles the smaller man that Rhett can appreciate. It’s as if rest can pull back the ripples of time to show what Link is without the conflict and fretting. If only Rhett could find a way to give the gift of moments like this to the two of them when the cameras were off. Just like younger days.

Rhett closes his eyes. His last thoughts how to find a way to talk to Link about what happened without it becoming something too raw for either of them to hold onto. He has no idea as to how he’s going to do this, but if he can get himself back to seeing Link in the same way that he is seeing him right now in this quiet second in time, then it’s worth it. It really is. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments!

Link shouldn’t be surprised to find himself alone the next morning, eyes half cracked and the other side of their shared little bed wholly cold. He’s a heavy sleeper, always has been, but usually he’s an early riser, at least earlier than Rhett. Of course, he’s not too sure of the time, but he figures the lack of windows has something to do with his over sleeping.

His hands grasp wildly at cold concrete of the floor as he looks for his glasses, finally coming into contact with the plastic, comforting as he slides them on. It’s not quite as easy to make his way to his feet from so low to the ground, grunting and groaning as he uses his knee as leverage. It’s only furthering the mystery of how he slept through Rhett’s departure.

He makes his way into the kitchen, lured in by the smell of horrible, instant coffee, and the clicking of a mug being placed down. He finds Rhett bent over, the expanse of his arms against the counter, back arched and legs straight, a sort of improvised version of downward facing dog. Though Link can only make out the profile, he can clearly see the wince that Rhett tries to hide as he stretches.

“You okay, bo?” He asks, taking slow and tentative steps forward. The softness in his voice long practiced when it came to Rhett, a tone reserved for soothing and getting to the bottom of things.

“Yeah, man. Slept funny I guess. My backs a little tweaked. I’ll live.”

Link dances from foot to foot, fingers knitting up in front of him and lip worried between his teeth. He’s nervous, always has been when it comes to making sure that Rhett’s okay. He assumes it’ll  _ always  _ make him a little nervous.

“I could… rub it, or something?” He offers, but is rewarded with a shake of the head rather than an excited acceptance.

“Nah. Told you I’m fine,” Rhett tells him, standing to his full, imposing height. “Don’t need your help, Link.”

The coldness of the room has nothing on the coldness of Rhett’s tone, and it’s a long lost memory by now to think of a time where he was much warmer toward him. When he’d smile as Link entered the room. Gave him hugs before the start of a weekend. Now, he’d be shocked to get any of that.

“How’d you sleep… y’know, other than your back?” Link asks, rather than dwelling too much on their crumbling friendship.

“Can’t say it was the best night of my life, Neal. You?”

“It was okay. I was… you were warm.” He gives him a crooked smile, one that makes him look years younger and so very innocent, and for once, Rhett grins back.

“I know I’m hot,” he laughs, and Link does, too. It’s an unexpected change, a little humor, but a welcome one to be sure.

“I didn’t say all of that, now.”

Rhett takes a sip of coffee, seemingly dismissing that conversation. There’s a sigh, one that comes from disappointment from Link, but really, who’s he disappointed in? Surely if he’d give it any thought, it’d be himself. But those are other thoughts for other days.

“Any idea what we’re doing today?” Link asks, pushing the sadness to the back of his mind.

There's a heavy shrug as an answer. Then the small twitch of the beard when the coffee cup touches Rhett's lips again. The motions are just way too stiff and Link can only imagine what kind of pain Rhett's back is going to have to deal with until they can afford something more than that cheap for mattress.

“Seriously, I'm fine.”

Link blinks and then looks towards his own feet. His thoughts always ended up on his face and Rhett could read them every time. Like a light that only he could see through the darkness. Create a warm glow that they both could huddle around and laugh at dusty old jokes that would make their crew roll their eyes and shake their heads.

Another sip of coffee cuts through the solid wall of silence. It's way too quiet here. Without the constant movement and bustle of life to distract them from each other there are long stretches of nothing but thinking and rethinking. Trying to find out what healing wounds were worth reopening.

Link grabs the other coffee cup. The thin plastic is heated under his fingertips as he holds it just a little more tightly than he may have if he was anywhere else but here. The sweep of this thumb across the plastic slit on the side of the lid. Just to give his hand something to do.

That's a good thing, right? To have something to do?

There is a loud ring of a bell that comes out of nowhere, and both of them jump just enough to know that it will make for a good laugh to any viewers turning in right now. Then with a small  _ whoosh  _ of the service elevator door there is a small white envelope with the words Rhett and Link challenge #1.

Link makes it over to the envelope first. His socked feet padding across the hard cement floor. Rhett stays in the kitchen. His long fingers still cradling his coffee as if it can solve all of the world's problems of Rhett keeps with his steady sips. A crinkling of Link opening the envelope floats through the empty space as he heads back over. His eyes narrow in slight confusion as his eyes scan the words and then looks back up to meet Rhett's raised eyebrows.

“Well?” Rhett asks.

“Our first challenge,” Link answers. His voice still has a soft edge of gentle bewilderment. “It's just...I thought that the challenges we're supposed to be...you know...challenging.”

Rhett doesn't bother to wait for Link to elaborate. Instead he pulls the now unfolded piece of paper out of Link's light grip. His brow furrows as he reads and then gives a small huff.

“They want us to do Up Downs? It'll feel like freshman high school gym class all over again.”

“Not sure I want to go back that far in time,” Link grumbles. “I looked like crap in shorts back then.”

The actual laugh that leaves Rhett's mouth is so sudden that Link almost does a double take. It's so rare that he hears anything that natural anymore.

“You  _ still  _ look like crap in shorts, Neal. Then again though, so do I.”

“Speak for yourself.”

They give each other a little more time and a little more space before the camera is set up in the widest space offered in their tight confines. It’s not going to be a particularly long video, at least not from this angle, but then again, there are other set up to catch more of their time together.

Link’s ready to go in a plain white t shirt and a pair of grey joggers, while Rhett’s settled for an equally plain shirt and black basketball shorts. This isn’t anything like the studio, where they’d undoubtedly be dressed in matching outfits, a visual sign of their everlasting unity. But here, where they’re just two guys, not particularly part of any team at the moment, they’re dressed differently, and the contrast is almost striking.

Link shakes away the thought, the one of him and Rhett smiling at one another in equally silly outfits throughout the years, and settles on a gentle shrug and a look of indifference before he starts the video.

“Good Mythical morning. Or evening. Or lunch time. We still don’t know,” Link smiles, hoping that it comes off as sincere and unforced.

“We have been given our first challenge in the bunker of solitude,” Rhett breaks in, fingers from both hands pointed against each other. “It’s gonna be physical, which means we all know that Link is gonna lose.”

It’s a fair attempt at maintaining their usual banter, and Link gives him props where props are due. Good for him. He can hate Link and pretend otherwise like a champ; not that it’ll fool anyone with the other footage available… but again, another thought for another day.

“Uh, let’s not forget that I’ve beaten you at pushups and pull-ups, mister athlete. And that was before I started workin’ out,” Link brags, giving an exaggerated flex to the camera. Screw it, he knows he looks good.

“Well you’re gonna have to put your money where your mouth is, Neal. Literally, because the winner of this challenge gets an extra whopping fifteen bucks added to their spending this week. For whatever we want. We get sixty seconds to do as many up downs as we can, and whoever has the most gets the extra post.”

Link stretches his arms and neck, hopping a little in place as he readies himself. Rhett can keep shit talking all he wants. Link’s got this in the bag, even if Rhett’s back hadn’t been bothering him since he woke up.

“Hope you’re ready to not get anything extra this week, Rhett. You gonna  _ lose _ ,” Link teases, voice raising and accent flairing. It’s just about the most  _ Link  _ thing he can say, and for a moment they both pretend that it’s all okay. They can do that, right? Have fleeting moments of normalcy? Link can only hope that it won’t hurt too bad when they crash back down.

Rhett doesn’t respond. Typical for him to let his actions speak for themselves. Link can just ramble on and on. The instructions in the letter are simple enough. The sound of a bell somewhere tucked into a hidden speaker will chime and they will begin. Then keep a steady count until the second bell chime. Link turns just enough to see Rhett in profile. Their eyes meet and Rhett’s lips twitch into a small smile before his face shifts back to the camera. The bell rings, and they start.

The odd thing about it all is that kidding aside, Link has the right frame of mind. With the cold floor underneath their hands and athletic clothing, it really does feel like being in high school again.

“Dang man,” Link pants as he jumps up, “you better catch up. I’m already at six!”

Rhett doesn’t have much to say, much too focused on the localized pain in his spine and the burning in his lungs. He’s not as young as he used to be, that’s for sure, and the wear and tear of the years showing their strength. But he’s got a point to make, so back down he goes.

Link wouldn’t be doing so well if it were for his daily workouts, he thinks. And why has he been working out? Well, that’s pretty obvious now, isn’t it. Rhett feels the flare of anger reigniting in his belly, and with renewed energy he jolts back up. He gives it a valiant effort, really he does. And when the timer sounds, he thinks he might have it… until Link announces his count, and Rhett’s lost by a handful.

“Extra money goes to me!” Link boasts, with a  wide smile and wiggly hips. “What’ll I buy? Hmm. Could be anything, Rhett. Anything. The sky’s the limit for me, man.”

“Yeah, well everyone’s gotta win one now and again,” Rhett grumbles, genuinely irritated that he didn’t win. It’s not often that he takes the ‘L’, and he knows he should be more graceful when he loses, but fuck it. Link is anything but graceful these days- he can afford a little bit of being sore.

“Y’know what,” Link says to the camera, one hand on his hip, the other pressed against his lips, “I know what I’m gettin’. Don’t wanna watch old man McLaughlin teetering around everyday. I’m gonna spend my money on gettin’ him a better pillow.”

There is just a small inhale to let Link know that Rhett has heard him. The expression is hard to distinguish. Part suspicion and part surprise. It helps that the cameras are still running. Link can only imagine what Rhett would say if they were completely alone. There is a battle within Rhett’s mind at the moment. Trying his best to keep everything as light as possible, but not wanting Link to believe that a small pillow will suddenly make everything better. Because of course it won’t.

“Thanks man,” Rhett starts. “But you won fair and square. I’m not about takin’ your prize.”

“You’re not takin’ anything, bo. I’m giving it to you because you need it. Besides I want to make sure your back survives this stunt.”

Rhett wants to argue. By god does he want to press this. Because the hypocrisy in Link saying that he wants to keep his comfort in mind is way too late at this point. He should have thought about that before. Hell, there were so many opportunities for Link to have thought things through. To not make the last two months hell on Earth for the two of them. Their fanbase split down the middle, and TMZ still calling up the office day and night for them to finally speak out about that what was dubbed “The Good Mythical Meltdown.”

“Thank you for liking, commenting and subscribing. We don’t have a wheel, so uh… see you next time, I guess,” Link tells the camera awkwardly, waits for Rhett to give a little wave and then turns it off.

“You’re not spendin’ your winnings on me. Buy some lip balm or somethin’,” Rhett tells him, and the way he says it makes Link shudder. It’s a low blow. He can only hope that the feeds set up around the house are controlled properly as to not catch their arguing.

“I am. And you can’t stop me.”

“Link-”

“Would you just shut up already?” Link rounds to face him with a hard pressed brow and clenched fists. Never in their entire friendship has he wanted to hit Rhett more than he does now, but he won’t. “I love you, and I’m gonna do this for you. So stop fuckin’ tellin’ me what to do and just please, please shut up!”

Rhett opens his mouth to say something else, but Link doesn’t give him the opportunity. Instead he stomps to their shared bedroom and uses his allotted internet time to catch up on social media… and order the damn pillow. Fuck him if he thinks he gets to make any sort of decision for Link.

The steady typing on the keyboard helps. It gives something for Link to do with his hands that creates instead of destroys, because honestly, that’s what Link wants to do. To curl up his fists and punch things. Walls. That horrible air mattress. Rhett’s face. Anything and everything is up for grabs. Occasionally he hears a random noise from different parts of the place. The sounds of Rhett still existing echo off of the walls. Just there to remind him how much things have changed. How every single choice that Link makes is scrutinized like he’s a fucking child. The ten minute warning pops up on the computer screen. Here just to remind Link that his access to the outside world is slowly dwindling down. He barely has time to make sure that the list for the next shopping items is made before the screen turns black. His face in the reflection of the monitor as cold and disconnected as he imagined it would be.

Part of him, way in the back of his mind, feels bad for hogging the 1 hour a day of time. Grated, it’s not like Rhett had walked over to ask for Link to move. Another wave of prickly anger ripples in Link’s lower belly. It helps him not feel as numb, but at this moment he can’t decide what feeling he actually prefers. The numbness or the rage.

Rhett avoids Link as much as he can. After decades of knowing him has taught him a few things. One is to not approach Link when he’s really upset. It’s the equivalent of walking up to a wounded animal. Pain and fear intermingle, and no matter the intent, he will always get attacked. It’s better to allow Link to rant at him, to scream and yell until Link’s eyes make the shape that is incredibly close to crying. It’s a subtle moment, but Rhett has perfected the timing. It’s not like Rhett isn’t aware that Link really was just trying to be nice with buying him a pillow. Rhett is the one whose pride has been wounded. Link held out his hand, and Rhett swatted it away because…

He inhales and exhales, trying to figure out the reason why. Sits in the kitchen area, thinking over everything again and again. How much Link had apologized after the scandal had broken. Had come over to Rhett’s house in the middle of the night. The alcohol so strong on his breath that Rhett had to take a couple of steps back from the smell. How Rhett spent the night holding Link so close on his couch and asking him, and then begging him to tell him what the hell happened. Then Link finally breaking down. Rhett had laughed, not believing him. Thought that it was some sort of oddly timed joke.

But, by some sick twist of fate, it hadn’t been. And somehow, some stupid fucking way, he let himself be grounded away. Let some backwards, hateful man take his place. It wasn’t, well, it wasn’t like  _ that.  _ He didn’t hate Link for what he’d done. He hates Link for what he’d done to  _ them.  _ To their show. Their audience. He hated that Link was selfish and only thought of himself. But he hated himself too, still does, because ultimately he lead them to where they are today; locked in a tiny cell in separate rooms barely even making eye contact.

He misses the days when they’d do nothing but talk. About the river when they were kids. About sports. About the songs they used to like, and the ones they were becoming fond of in the new age. He misses sleepovers, even though two grown men shouldn’t be staying at each other’s houses just because. He misses the way Link would pout and grumble the next morning before his coffee was ready- hair poked up in every direction with the streak of grey looking like a lightning bolt. He misses the way his shoulders shake when he laughs, and the way his teeth reflect the light when he smiles. He misses everything about him. He misses him. But it’s not enough to force him back into friendship. Because they’re both stubborn and they have a little bit more growing to do before they can overcome this. 


	5. Chapter 5

The next shipment has come and gone. The cheap toaster has a small dent in the side, but only Link is saying that they should return it. It works and in Rhett's opinion that's all that should matter. Function over beauty and all of that. The rest of the items are put in various placess in the small spaces. With just a few hand towels and a couple of ready made meals can do a lot to make a bunker look more like a home. 

Rhett is already heading into the kitchen with the couple of tiny pans that they bought before Link is able to pull out the last package; a sturdy pillow that’s crammed in the back of the box. It takes much longer to fluff than it should have. It was as if even the packers knew what Link had been planning, and this was all part of a silent scheme to dissuade him. It doesn't work. Link is able to be just as remarkably stubborn as the man standing bent over like a wilting bean pole in front of a hot stove. His large hands stir the softening noodles as if it is the best meal that they'll have for the week. 

Link smiles wistfully at the sight, how carefully Rhett plucks a noodle from the fork he stirred with, blowing it gently and nibbling to check its consistency. It takes him back to camping trips, the ones they used to go on, where Rhett would dutifully cook the ramen and hot dogs. A worry that Link would burn himself- or worse; the food. It makes him a little teary eyed, the nostalgia of it. They had some good times. A lot of good times, really. Decades worth. It’s a lot of space taken up in your brain to just throw someone like that away, and he can only hope that Rhett realizes that before it’s too late. 

“Hey, Rhett?” He hears himself saying before he can stop it, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times when Rhett turns around. There’s a lot he wants to say. So, so much, but none of it really matters. The only thing that does, the best thing that he can think to say is, “I love you.” He leaves the room before he can get rejected again. 

Rhett bites at his lip as he watches him go, back to their bedroom he assumes. It’s where Link generally goes to hide from him, where he settles in and tries to stay quiet and out of the way. It’s, ugh, it’s a lot to see such a big personality reduced to something so small. So delicate. And Rhett’s a big reason why that is. It fucking… it sucks, for lack of a better word. 

So, he’ll make the best of their dinner. He’ll try to pretend everything is good and okay. Maybe if he believes hard enough it’ll come true. 

“Link?” He calls after he drains the water. “Dinner’s done, bo.” He mentally kicks himself when he realizes what he’d called him, but it’s too late to take it back now. 

There are only two cameras in the kitchen. One is pointed at the small table where they sit and the other one in the high corner to cover the majority of the small room. The picture quality is good. Rhett had made sure of it. Especially since it was going to be a continuous stream. Rhett places each of the plates of spaghetti and tomato sauce in front of each chair, and then sits down and waits. 

It's more about being polite than actually waiting for Link. At least that's sure as hell what he's going to tell himself. 

Soon Link shuffles in. His button up shirt changed for a black graphic tee. Rhett can feel his heart flip over at the fact that it's one of the shirts that he bought for Link a couple of Christmases ago. Looking down at his plate is easier, so that's what he does. Apparently that's what Link does too. 

The steady scrapes of plastic forks on cheap ceramic dishes helps break the silence. Two friends who love each other more than anything as they watch the other one fall apart. Melodrama on parade. For the views and for their souls as well. 

“Rhett,” Link says quickly, as if trying not to lose his nerve “I didn't know that he was…”

Link is faltering under the heated glare.

“If I had any idea that he - ”

“No,” Rhett barks, and Link recoils. 

“What?”

“I said no,” Rhett repeats. This time his voice is slightly softer, but if anything even more firm. “We're not talkin’ about this. Not now when we finally can sit across from each other and eat a meal without one of us getting up before we're done.” 

It’s a nice sentiment; two best friends sitting and eating together. Two life long best friends at that. To an outside observer, well, should they not know about the turmoil in their lives right now… to an outsider it would probably be considered cute. Endearing, maybe. 

But the way that Link’s gut bubbles is anything but cute. It’s sad and pathetic and he’s sad and pathetic… and if he could just have one wish... Just one… he’d take that whole night back. 

“When will you be able to talk about it with me? I want… Rhett, I hate this; how we are now. I just wanna go back. I miss you.” 

Rhett wipes at the corners of his mouth, hoping that there’s no red stains to speak of, before he clears his throat and looks at Link. He steadies his gaze like only he can, sharpening his already angular features- he’s aiming for intimidating. He’s hoping to stop Link in his tracks. 

“How about we talk about it next time you get a few shots’a cheap whisky in ya? Huh, Link? That sounds good. From what I understand, that loosens you up real good, buddy.” 

Link’s mouth hangs wide open. The glint of his perfect, pearly white teeth reflecting behind his lips. It’s a match for the perfect white of his eyes, watery and shiny, catching the light all the same. A single heart broken tear slides down his stubbled cheek, cresting the edge of his chin and dropping on to the very shirt that Rhett had reminisced over only moments earlier. 

Link’s eyes fall to the table for only a moment before the loud screeching of his chair rings out, grating on both of their eardrums. But Link doesn’t care. He wouldn’t care if they burst and he bled to death right there on the cold concrete floor. He can’t stand to look at Rhett, but it’s not his fault. He’s really only ashamed of himself. He has himself and himself only to blame for this. He understands, and he won’t bring Rhett down with his senseless, self hating tears. 

Rhett can hear him sniffle as he walks away, the saddest sound he may have ever heard. His jaw clenches roughly in irritation, but it’s aimed inward. Why… fucking why is he the way that he is? Link sat there, not without sin, but not without innocence, either, reaching out for his best friend… and what had he done? Insulted him like a fucking common street rat. Tossed him aside like god damn garbage. He’s the worst of the worst, the lowest of the low. If he’s truthful with himself, he doesn’t deserve Link, and maybe he never has. 

It is times like this that Rhett wonders if his restless leg are not part of a syndrome at all. Instead it's his mind making efforts to make his body move towards proper solutions. To get up and do something, god dammit. Run, and not walk over to give Link the hug Rhett knows that they both need. To push away the tears that his scalding words have caused. To tell him that he's proud of him for slamming his fist against his front door that night to tell him his side of the story. Even if Rhett hadn't believed it at first, because why would Link ever hold anything back? Even if embarrassment and lust were intermingled in the hazy excuses.

There is a definite sob that is coming from the other room. It's muffled so much that Rhett can actually hear the hand over Link's mouth as he tries and fails to keep it hidden away. Rhett didn't know that pain could come in colors, but again Link is teaching him something new. Because the sudden flash of electric blue is visible in his heart. It's striking and is so close to Link's natural gaze that it causes Rhett's heart to crumble just a little bit more.

Link isn't able to witness any of this, of course. He's too busy becoming absorbed in the plastic sheen of their air mattress. The heat from his breath as he exhales may melt a hole in the material, but he's too far gone to care. Twisted into a perfect little shell that no one will be able to crack open. At least without tools that they can't afford with the weekly amount that is allowed. 

Now more than ever Link wishes that they had a thicker blanket. The thin sheet is too cold and shows his silhouette to the outside world. Even if there wasn't sound, anyone watching on their smartphone or computer would know what's going on. 

Kitchen camera: Rhett sits picking at what's left of a meal. His legs are bouncing up and down and brow furrowed as he tries to pretend not to hear the helpless cries of the other part of everything he's been since the tender age of six.

Bedroom camera: A lumpy mass, also known as Link, shakes on a slowly deflating bed. Waiting to be rescued from a sinking ship that he crashed in the first place. 

There’s only so much that he can do to tune out the wailing sounds drifting in from the bedroom. It’s not as if he can scroll through the apps on his cell phone or turn on the tv. There’s only sitting there and staring mindlessly and feeling his stomach float on waves of nausea. 

It’s too much. The cries filtering in, sounding all too like they did years and years ago when he was little and fell and skinned his knee. They’re deeper, sure, but just as pained. Back then he’d comforted Link, even if he thought it was a little weird for him to have his arm around a boy and telling him that he’d be okay, that he was there for him and would let Link lean on him as he walked him home. How could he, at such a young age, be far more mature than he is now. He was a support then… but now? 

Without another thought, his own chair scrapes against the ground and his heavy footsteps lead him into the dark, only Link’s whimpering leading him in the right direction. 

He eases himself down to sit awkwardly on the edge of the bed, the redistribution of the air inside jostling Link’s fetal position. Rhett gives him only a moment to acclimate to another presence before his fingers seek out Link’s messy hair. It’s always been soothing to him, fingernails scraping across the nape of his neck, so he does that now, soft and unwavering. 

“Please don’t cry, Link. I shouldn’t have said that. It was unfair.” 

He doesn’t say anything back, but he doesn’t move away from the delicate touch either. How long has it been since he’s had contact? He certainly hasn’t gotten it from Rhett in the last couple months… not that he really ever touched him before, but a hug here and there, at least… 

He probably craves it, Rhett reasons. He’s probably starved for it. And that’s just about the most heartbreaking thing he can think of, and maybe that’s why Link did it in the first place? 

So, he shifts again, settling in behind Link, and drapes and arm over his waist and pulls him in close. He can’t think of anything else to say, but he doesn’t really need to because the whimpers have settled into shaky breathing, but he’s quiet at last, and that’s really the best that he could have hoped for.


	6. Chapter 6

Rhett doesn’t remember Link twisting around in his arms as they slept, but when he opens his eyes the next...morning? Afternoon? Night? Whatever it is, the man is almost nose to nose with him on the mattress. His face soft as he sleeps. The faintest tear lines are still visible on his cheeks, but at least they’re not the violent shade of red like before. Rhett realizes that he is essentially trapped under the only type of dead weight that a sleeping Link can provide. He almost chuckles at this. Rhett sleeps like the world is about ready to end, while the man laying beside sleeps like it already has.

Eventually he’s able to pull out his left arm and get the blood flowing back inside of his veins. All the while Link might as well have just felt a slight shuffle. There is even a small grunt from the overly large mouth. Another chuckle escapes as Rhett scoots off the side of the bed and gets to his feet. Even with all of the annoyance about the extra pillow, Rhett’s back can’t help but be grateful for Link giving it to him. The air mattress is still torture, but at least Rhett can manage to get himself to the shower today. There is still a dull ache that rolls up from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck, but that’s better the day before.Thank god for little pillow shaped miracles. 

He’s quick to the coffee, kicking himself when he realizes that yet  _ again  _ they forgot to place an order for tea. The habit’s gotta be harder to kick the second time around, right? Realistically, he shouldn’t drink it. But actually? He’s gonna.

He’s only just poured a cup when a soft pitter patter falls into the room, and Link, full on bed head and fists balled at his eyes appear in the doorway.

“S’at coffee I smell?” He murmurs, voice gruff with sleep. He takes small, tentative steps towards Rhett and takes the mug from his hands, taking a sip and making it his own.

“I was gonna drink that, y’know,” Rhett grumbles at him, but it lacks conviction.

“Shoulda done it quicker then, huh?”

He’s always had a perfect, sly grin. Always been able to get away with murder because he looked cute doing it, and now isn’t any exception.

“You’re an ass,” Rhett chuckles, and cringes when he realizes that neither of them have watched their mouthed this entire time. Oh well, it’s all part of Good Mythical Muddying their reputations at this point.

“Yeah, yeah. Not the worst you’ve called me,” he smiles back, but it doesn’t stay, because really, he has called him worse. But it doesn’t matter right now, because they made progress last night, right? 

“You sleep okay?” Rhett asks, hoping to change tactics. It’s hard thinking of things to say, even now, but he’s trying.

“Yeah, it was okay… how’s the back?”

“Okay.”

Link nods along. He understands. But he doesn’t understand how to fix this. But there progress, and that can’t be bad.

Progress. Forward momentum without a necessary destination. That's how Link feels a good amount of the time within the last six months or so. Maybe that's what got those every once in a while fluttering half fantasies morph into wondering, and then watching to finally him heading already half buzzed to that tiny bar on a back alley road. The lights so warm and inviting that it pulled him in like a moth to a flame. Destined to get set alight by his burning curiosity. If only he had remembered that Rhett was professionally along for the ride.

Even now, the smallest things remind Link of his foolish mistake. The mug of coffee he sips on is so close to the brown waves of soft hair. At night there is the ghost of teeth against his bottom lip pulling him up and then down. Hands skipping across the small of his back.

There is a ring of a bell that shakes Link back to where he is now. The coffee barely being hung on by his hand and Rhett heading back to the living room area for the next challenge.

“Gotta be kiddin’ me,” Link follows behind just in time to hear Rhett grumble.

“Do I wanna know now, or after I’ve set up the camera?” Link asks, but he already knows the answer. They’d spend years waiting to tell each other any little thing that happened to them for their weekly podcast, and as if Rhett would allow for a surprise to be spoiled now...

“So, Link,” Rhett started, directed at both Link and the blinking red light of their camera, “we’re gonna play truth or dare. Suggestions from the beasts.”

If you could really and truly choke from fear, surely it would happen to Link. Sure, with this segment, they had the ability to cut and edit questions, but with the surveillance cameras? They were bound to catch something that would only further tarnish his reputation. His stomach drops low in his belly, and his heart takes over the vacated space, but still he smiles and nods. This is for Rhett. He can do it for him.

“Oh, gosh. Haven’t played that in a while. Okay, brother. Who’s goin’ first?”

“I will,” Rhett mutters, handing Link the stack of prompts that are bound for Rhett to answer. There’s bound to be a few nightmares written in tiny print here, and if he can take the first one… he will. He’ll do it for Link. Because right now, with the way his blue eyes are already rimmed with pink and shining brightly, he needs someone to take a knee for him.

“Okay, Rhett. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

He waits patiently for Link to shuffle through the stack of cards, finding the first ‘truth,’ and flip it over to reveal the question.

“Do you regret moving to California with Link?”

He doesn’t miss the way Link’s lips twitch, the fight to keep them neutral when they want to slip down into a frown. But he stays steady, patient and waiting for the answer.

“No, never. I don’t regret doin’ anything with Link,” he tells the lense, far too vulnerable to tell the man to his face. “He’s my best friend,” he adds, “Wherever he goes, I go.”

Well that’s just… that’s probably for the benefit of the audience, Link thinks. He probably doesn’t really mean it. It’s something he has to say. Something they’ve practiced over and over. A question they’ve been asked by everyone under the sun, and it’s almost a knee jerk answer at this point. But still, he allows a little bit of the weight to lift from his shoulder. Allows a little glimmer of hope into his soul; because it’s starved and it needs it.

Rhett shifts his eyes to focus back on the cards, not wanting to make things any more tense than they already are. He meant what he said, because, of course he does. They are a package deal. Where one leads, the other one follows. A blood pact made so many years ago that even if Link hadn’t lost the piece of paper it would have been so faded with so much wear and tear the words wouldn’t have been legible anyway. They are two heartbeats within the same chest cavity at this point. One aches and the other one knows. Maybe that’s why what happened hurts so bad. Rhett thought that they literally were incapable of keeping secrets from each other, but there Link was. Able to disconnect themselves without Rhett even noticing that anything was out of the ordinary. It was unsettling.

“You ready for my turn?”

Link’s voice tries so hard to sound normal, but the edge of uncertainty at the way he cracks at the end of the question gives him away. It’s so subtle that one a handful of fans will tilt their head at the change, but they will just assume that it’s the nature of the challenge and nothing more. Rhett nods and finally looks up.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Link says automatically, and Rhett pulls out the next card labeled truth.

“What’s something about Rhett that we as fans would be shocked to know?”

Both of them react differently to the question. Rhett turns inward. Shoulders hunching over and mouth set in a tight frown. Link’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline in surprise, and mouth slightly slackens. Link knows a lot of things about Rhett that fans don’t know, of course. Things way too personal to ever reveal to the masses.

“Oh, gosh...ummm…”

Rhett stays rooted on the spot, not really wanting to process what Link will probably say. In his own mind it flashes to late night conversations and heart to hearts of the past. Rhett’s never been an opened book, but he’s let a few pages fall out every now and again.

“Rhett likes Oscar Wilde,” Link admits with a hint of admiration. “Read a lot of his books in college and would throw out random quotes at me all the time. Like…”

Link hums, in the way you do when recalling a happy and hazy memory..

“Life is too important a thing to talk seriously about,” Rhett mutters.

Link’s face brightens, and he smiles fondly. “Yeah! And...oh! We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

The corners of Rhett’s mouth turn up. Link blinks, and leans over just enough for Rhett to take notice.

“I can resist everything except temptation,” Link whispers, begging that Rhett connects the quote with the deeper meaning. The momentary loss of the smile tells Link answer.

“True friends stab you in the front,” Rhett whispers back.

Link opens and closes his mouth right back when he realizes that there aren’t any real words to say. And judging by the gentle glare he gets from the seat across from him, there’s nothing that Rhett wants to hear anyway. And just, just please… not this again. It’s too much, the whiplash from Rhett’s emotions. If Link has to put up with it for much longer, surely he’ll be damaged beyond repair. And so, instead of saying anything about anything else, he only asks one question:

“Truth or dare, Rhett?”

“Dare.”

Link’s a little surprised at the request, but then again, the last one was a Truth and it had nearly derailed all of the progress that they’d made, so maybe this was for the better.

“Okay,” Link says and picks a card. “This is a longer one… they say that hugs lasting at least twenty seconds can have healing effects on both parties. You both seem like you could use some healing…” Link trails off and bites at his lip, begging for the burn in his eyes to stay put, to not spill over and reveal yet again that he’s so twisted up inside. “So, Rhett. I dare you to hug Link for as long as you both need it.”

Link sets the card down and folds his hands in his lap, looking toward the ground because he doesn’t want to see the disgusted look that he’s sure Rhett’s displaying. It’s gonna hurt too much to see how much he doesn’t want this.

The shuffle of feet and readjusting are heard right next to him, and he’s sure that Rhett’s about to storm off, to call the whole thing a wash and take the loss, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches for Link’s hand and gives it a little tug, imploring him to stand up too. And when he does, shakily, Rhett wraps him up tight as soon as he’s balanced and squeezes. Chest to chest they stand, both of their heads out of frame. But Rhett’s arms are overlapping each other as they rest on Link’s sagging shoulders, and Link’s arms are crossed at the middle of Rhett’s back.

Link’s breath comes out ragged, like he might hyperventilate, or worse, cry again. And he thinks that Rhett’s sure to let go any minute, but he only holds him tighter and whispers gentle shushing in his ear. The heat of it ghost over Link’s neck and sends shivers down his spine, but it does the trick, and eventually Link calms down and melts into the touch.

“I’m sorry, Rhett,” he tells him softly, and is silenced by another “shh,” and a gruff, “Not right now.”

Twenty seconds have come and gone, and who knows how much longer when Rhett finally loosens his grip and takes a step back, a mimicry of his usual smile on his lips, but it’s something. Link does his best to grin back, lopsided and broken, but it’s there, and he can’t say that it didn’t help.

“Your turn,” Link says and sits back down.

The room might as well have been on wheels with the way that everything is spinning. Then again, maybe it is. They really don't have any idea of where they actually we're.are. Underground bunker. Mansion in the woods. The moon. They all had merit in the grand scheme of things Link swallowed hard. His body still feeling the gentle warmth of Rhett’s body. He hates how much he misses something as silly as their hugs. The way that Rhett is able to just know where to place his long arms and large hands. The placement of his bearded chin on the top of Link’s head with the best kind of pressure.

Link sighs as Rhett grabs at the truth stack of cards and shuffles them, and then the dare cards right after. It’s obvious that he’s trying to give his mind and hands something to do as they let the hug still settle in.

“Truth or dare?” Rhett asks.

Link inhales and exhales deeply. “Dare.”

The top card is pulled, and Rhett’s eyes narrow as he looks at the words on the card. Then he frowns just enough for Link to tilt his head before he finally reads it out loud.

“It’s obvious that you both were hurt by what happened, but maybe if you were able to see the other’s point of view it would help. So, for the next few minutes, Link is now Rhett and Rhett is now Link. Tell each other how you think the other one feels.”

Link chuckles. “That sounds like more of a dare for the both of us, huh?”

Rhett nods and puts the used card in the small pile off to the side.

“I’m ok with doing the dare if you are,” Rhett mutters.

Link swallows again, and nods his head.

“You really hurt me,” Link begins, adopting a slightly lower tone in his imitation of Rhett’s slightly deeper voice when serious. “Going out there and being so reckless. I thought that we were best friends. You didn’t think that I was worth even telling that you wanted to...try new things?”

Rhett rolls his eyes in a way that is painfully familiar to Link. His large shoulders hunched over as he gives a small shrug.

“I have a right to not tell you everything about my damn sexuality, Rhett. Last time I checked I was a grown man. I...I don’t need your permission to date, or make out with whoever I want whenever I want to.”

Link’s face tightens at this, because why wouldn’t it? Rhett as him has no idea what he’s been through all of this time. This dare is showing him that. Rhett is clueless as to what he wants or needs or feels as of late.

“You’re right that you don’t need my permission,” Link continues, his Rhett voice slightly trembles. “But when you start doin’ things that affect our squeaky clean image, it matters then. In a back alley being groped. You might as well have been fuckin’ that - “

“Link!”

“No, Link,” he mimics back, the charade taking him over fully. So much so that his brow is set deep, just as Rhett’s usually is. His arms are crossed over his chest, just as Rhett closes himself off. For all intents and purposes, he  _ is  _ Rhett. “Let me say my piece, brother,” he goes on. “You really fucked us over. And for what? Because you’re a selfish prick who only cares and thinks about himself. I couldn’t have chosen a worse person to build my life with,” he spews, but something in him is changing. He’s raw. He’s open. He’s tearing up and beating himself to a pulp, and using words that Rhett would never say to do it. “I wish I’d never talked to you. Better yet, I wish I’d never met you at all. I hate you. I fuckin’ hate you, Link…”

Rhett’s had enough. Link’s pain is his pain. Always has been and always will be. This mental break is going to drag him deep down into a depression if Rhett doesn’t stop it, this is something he knows from a lifetime of memories.

“Stop, Link! Just stop!” He’s on his feet and dragging Link up by the collar before he even fully realizes that his muscles have shifted. A reflex that’s been cultivated over so much time. The need to help. To hold. To make it better. He’s crushing Link to his chest, still both of their heads out of frame, both shaking as they struggle to breathe.

It’s been a long time since they’ve cried together, Rhett thinks idly, and buries his nose against the soft skin of Link’s neck. He can feel the artery there, pumping away wildly like it’s ready to burst. It’s pure pain in palpable fashion.

“Hug me back,” Rhett rasps, then adds, “please. Please hug me back, Link.”

He does, but it’s half hearted. Like he doesn’t really wanna be there, but it’s too bad. Rhett’s not letting go. Not now. Not ever.

“I don’t hate you, you hear me? I love you. I always have. Wouldn’t’a come this far without you. That was never part of my plan.”

“Why’m I like this?” Link asks, and if there’s ever been a harder question to answer, Rhett can’t think of it. But he shakes his head and does his best because it’s what Link needs. What they both need.

“You’re not like anything, bo. You ain’t done nothin’ wrong, okay? You didn’t. Maybe you coulda done it a little less publicly,” he tries, to no avail, to joke, “But you weren't wrong for it. And I could never, ever hate you. Especially not for bein’ who you are. God, you must think I’m the worst person on the planet.”

There is a sniff that comes from one of them, but honestly neither one of them can tell who is crying harder. All they both know is that they are breaking each other’s hearts each and every day just a little bit more. That’s something that they swore that they would never do so many years ago. Back when it was Rhett and Link, and fuck the rest of the world.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that…” Link begins, but the words are too heavy to push out of his throat and into the air. Rhett’s arms tighten around him, and somehow that helps. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that I might…”

No, he needs to be honest with himself, just like he was that night, so Link looks up into the best part of him. His heart flutters at the tears that are collecting in the green eyes of his best friend.

“That I might be bisexual, Rhett. I just...I just wanted to know if the feelings I have were real. I wanted to be sure, and I needed to find out for myself before I told anyone, including you.”

Rhett doesn’t say anything, but keeps on holding Link in his arms. It’s exactly what Link needs, and thank god for Rhett always knowing what Link needs.

“It’s okay. I understand. Let’s just… uh, get ourselves together and get this video finished. We’ll tell em’ to cut this part out, okay? It’s no one’s business but yours, Link. You tell your truth when you’re ready.”

It’s just what Link’s been dying to hear. That he can make decisions about himself, by himself, on his own terms. That he has some control over his life, and just because people know about him, it doesn’t mean that they have a say in anything that happens to him. It’s empowering.

“No. Uh, let’s leave it in. If… if you’re okay. I… think I’m ready for it. For whatever comes after this. If you are…”

Rhett squeezes just a little tighter and finally lets him go, taking a step back but keeping his hands firmly on both of Link’s drooping shoulders.

“This is your show, bo. I’m just along for the ride.”


	7. Chapter 7

Link slowly washes the same two dishes. They just don't seem clean enough to dry, so again he squirts a small amount of dish detergent and scrubs. The bowl and spoon both were used by Rhett. Strawberries and cream instant oatmeal for breakfast, or at least what they believed to be breakfast. Before they had headed to bed there had been a breakthrough. Rhett's hug had been so warm and familiar. It was more than Link could handle, but in a good way. A  _ really  _ good way. 

“You're gonna get your hands all pruny there, Cinderella.”

Rhett chuckles as he leans over by the sink and watches Link focus on the task. They switch their ideocracies as much as their shirts. Now Link needs something to do with his hands while Rhett presses jokes into the awkward space between them. 

“Just thinkin’ about everything,” Link mumbles, more to the two dishes than to the taller man beside him. “Lots of stuff going on.”

Rhett hums in gentle understanding. His green eyes sweep up Link's wet hands to his slender arms to rest on his downcast face. The dark rimmed glasses. The softened expression.

“We can talk some more about it, if you want Bo.”

Link turns to him in surprise, and then a tense smile. “Yeah, I think I'd like that.”

There’s a few tense moments of uncertainty, of Link wringing his hands so tightly that the blood seems to have dissipated, leaving behind an angry screaming white that begs for mercy. Rhett doesn’t mind the wetness, but he’s worried about the potential damage that Link’s doing to himself, so he takes Link’s hands in his own, not thinking of much else besides keeping him safe. 

“Oh,” Link breathes as he takes in their tangled fingers. “Okay… do you… want to talk about h-him?” 

There will be a time for this conversation. A time for Link to lay it all out on the table, to let Rhett cast his judgements, but now isn’t the time. Now they’re focused on healing, no deepening the already nearly lethal scars. 

“Maybe tell me… take me back. To when you knew?” Rhett’s voice is so soft, so calm and reassuring that it cracks Link’s heart open a little more, letting spill out all of the pent up frustrations and guilt he’s been harboring for decades. 

“When I knew…” he chuckles, his fingers still meshing with Rhett’s, sweet and playful. “When I knew I was… maybe not so straight?” 

Rhett nods, his eyes intent and careful as he listens, hoping that he doesn’t scare Link off and stop the conversation before it can even begin. 

“If you feel up to it,” Rhett amends, and Link smiles appreciatively. 

“I dunno, man. Guess I sorta always knew… even when I was… well, when I was a kid, I could appreciate a good lookin’ guy, ya know? S’not like I ever really thought that I was grossed out by guys or whatever, never really thought about it? If that makes sense? Gosh, I’m rambling…” He looks to the floor and pulls his hands into his own lap, and Rhett can’t help but feel the distance growing again. 

“No, bo. It’s okay, I’m followin’ ya. Just… keep goin’. Please?” 

“Okay, okay,” Link concedes, and takes a deep breath. “Once I knew that… that I could be attracted, y’know, to a guy… I… well, the church. You know how they are. That small town… I knew I had to keep it to myself. It was just…” his voice cracks with the strain of years of repressed feelings, and Rhett grabs his hands again. He’d pull his whole body into his lap if he thought he could get away with it. 

“There wasn’t any one eureka moment, Rhett. It just… it was what it was, or, is, I guess. It’s just a part of me. Same as havin’ blue eyes. It’s just who I am. Always been there.” 

Rhett nods, and tightens his fingers around Link’s hands. It’s a small gesture, but it makes all the difference. Link immediate relaxes into the feeling of warm palms and steady muscles. It helps to keep pushing him forward. A soft nudge as he speaks aloud what has been in his heart for so long. 

“Didn’t ever act on it,” Link continues. “Even if we were in a bigger city or somethin’, I was just too scared to do anything like...you know, go out on a date, let alone anything more.”

There is a deep inhale of breath as the new information settles around the two men. Too delicate for either one to move away or closer together. And all the while the camera is watching them. Silently etching Link’s kitchen confession for the entire world to see. 

“If you’ve never acted on it,” Rhett mutters, trying his best to keep his voice soft. “Then how do you know that it isn't just curiosity? I mean, just thinkin’ about it doesn’t necessarily make you one way or the other.”

Link eyebrows lift up in surprise at Rhett’s words, not knowing how to respond at first. Perhaps Rhett had a point about experimentation and such, but it wasn’t as easy as all that. So with a sigh, Link prepares himself to have his hands let go at the next revelation. 

“That college video stash under my bed wasn’t just fourteen copies of  _ Debbie Does Dallas _ , Rhett,” he says quickly.

“Oh…” Rhett replies, and then clear his throat. Then much to Link’s surprise, Rhett’s hands give his a reassuring squeeze. “That...yeah, that’s something different then.”

Link nods along in a lackadaisical way, the entire conversation draining him of all of his energy. Bleeding him out. And what’s worse, is there’s so much left to say. So, so much that he’s held on to since he was a teenager, since his hormones emerged and made him feel different than everyone else; ashamed, even. Things that he desperately wants to tell Rhett swim just under the surface of his skin, but he can’t tell him. He won’t ever tell him, for he has too much to lose and too much pride to see the distress on Rhett’s face when he admits that it all started with him. 

No, for now he’ll enjoy the heavy warmth in his hand. He’ll appreciate his best friends presence, his understanding. He won’t ruin it with revelations that’ll rip them apart. He’ll push it down just as he always has. And it’ll be okay, because it means he’ll get to keep Rhett just as he is. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnd we are finally back! Life getting in the way sucks, but hopefully this brand new chapter is worth it.

There’s a moment of calm. A peaceful, blissed out moment when Rhett wakes the next day that he doesn’t feel like the entire universe is collapsing on his shoulders. It doesn’t feel like he’s being ripped limb from limb by the black hole that is their lives. There’s just darkness. Cool air against his exposed shoulder… and a heavy warmth spread across his torso. 

He forgets, only momentarily, that the heat and the pressure and the soft puffs of air skirting across his chest are all from Link. He forgets it’s Link when he revels in the way the body stirs, only slightly, and wraps tighter around Rhett’s waist. He forgets it’s Link when he buries his face in the mop of hair that’s so much shorter than it used to be, and he forgets it’s Link when it smells like different (budgeted) shampoo. And different (budgeted) body wash. It’s easy to tell himself that he’s forgotten, but really… he hasn’t. 

He knows it’s Link when he takes the opportunity to grip him just as tightly as he’s being held. He knows it’s Link when his nose, still pressed into the silver hair, shifts up and instead it’s his lips there, and he kisses lightly at the crown of his scalp. He wishes, more than anything, that things were different… Hell, even if they were like they used to be. But here he is. Pretending it’s not Link when he pulls the body closer, so much closer, so much so that there isn’t any room left. And he keeps on pretending when he feels Link stir, pretending he’s still asleep so that maybe, just maybe, he can get another moment or two of just… being somewhere that isn’t here. 

Maybe this is how things will end one day. With Rhett long dead and buried. Body decaying into dry bones and then nothing, with his heaven being something like this. Link and him laying together in some sort of afterlife. Where he doesn't make Link doubt himself. Where they can just be. No labels and no rules. No confusing feelings or broken promises. 

Link shifts again, and a rumbling yawn lets Rhett know that he'll be alone in the cheap plastic air mattress in a few more minutes. The twitching of the smaller legs become smoother stretches as Link slowly wakes up. Rhett can feel the long eyelashes on the nape of his neck. Can imagine the way the sleep clings onto the blue eyes that he has adored since he first saw them on that first day of school. 

"Mornin' Rhett."

"Or night. Always hard to figure out."

Link chuckles low as he lifts himself up into a sitting position. Rhett already misses the warmth, and he turns over and pulls the thin blanket over his chest to try to compensate. Not like anything could match what Link can give him, no matter how hard he tries. 

“Sorry I…” Link days and gestures vaguely toward the cool place on Rhett’s body that feels long abandoned. “Always was a reckless sleeper,” he chuckles, soft and subdued- maybe even a little embarrassed. 

Rhett shakes his head at the thought, the thought that Link feels he can’t get close to Rhett any more. He’s always made a joke of it, but unlike now, it used to actually fill him with glee to make Rhett uncomfortable if he could. Now though, now he looks like his day’s already been ruined before it even starts. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry about. Kept me warm,” Rhett reassures with the sweetest smile he can manage. And maybe, just maybe it works because Link grins back, that same old lopsided grin that’s always made Rhett a little weak. A little more pliable to Link’s demands. 

“Anyway,” Link starts, with a voice a little lighter, “I’ll get started on the coffee. Can I make ya a bowl of cereal? My specialty.” 

Rhett lets himself pretend for just one more moment. One more fleeting minute when they’re both happy and calm and it’s just a lazy Saturday morning. The show doesn’t matter. The fallout doesn’t matter. There’s no tension and no reason to be anything but their best, happy selves. 

“I’d love one.” 

Link smiles, and Rhett can feel his chest tighten up. The grin that Link throws his way is too full of relief. When did it end up like this? Where they both were on such eggshells with each other? Even before the alleyway kiss that launched a thousand memes there was a tension that they both felt. 

It’s too much, feeling all of the time. Especially here and now when they can’t even escape into sunlight for relief. So Rhett does what Rhett’s been doing best lately. He pushes it away. He buries it deep down to the parts of him that he’s only just able to ignore, and for now, it will be enough. 

It’s enough when he sits across the table and lets Link pour his bowl. It’s enough when they talk about nothing in particular, but it’s more than enough when Link throws his head back and clutches at his chest in laughter. He looks young despite the crinkles at his eyes. He looks good and free and happy, and god damn, has it been missed; that sound. Loud and beefing on obnoxious, but it’s music to Rhett’s soul. It’s good and missed when it’s gone. 

But all good things must come to an end, much as their breakfast does at the chime of a new challenge ready to be tackled. 

“Dang,” Link sighs, “work, work, work, huh?” He smiles dislike his disappointment and makes his way to their little portal, and sucks in air between his teeth when he reads it. 

“Looks like we’re cookin’, man. Blindfolded,” he grimaces and hands Rhett the placard. 

“One of us,” Rhett amends as his eyes scan the words. “The other is sighted and gives instruction. And… that’s gonna be you. Cause you aren’t trusted with a knife, brother. Especially one you can’t even see.”

If looks can kill then Rhett is a dead man walking. The blue eyes narrow in his direction, but he just laughs it off in only the way that Rhett can. His shoulders shaking with giggles at the familiar teasing that they both secretly enjoy. Thank goodness for small things like this to help cut through the drama and tension. 

“Just for that I may not listen to a word you tell me,” Link grumbles back. 

“So, just like normal then?”

It’s lucky that Link notices the whirl of the camera overhead. It’s the only reason that he isn’t sticking out his middle finger directly into the bearded face. Granted, it’s not like they  _ need  _ to be PG right now. That isn’t what this whole thing is about. It’s about being real and raw and figuring things out, but still there is a little bit of the need to keep up the squeaky persona even now. It’s part of their brand, and Rhett always likes to point out. 

“So, you ready to do this?” Rhett asks, as he grabs a very familiar looking green blindfold off of the table. The stitching in the pattern of light colored eyebrows on the front. 

“No,” Link admits, “But when the heck has that ever stopped us anyway?”

There’s this little shrug, a smirk that goes with it, that Rhett’s been doing for years. It’s his way of saying, without saying, “Come on, Link. Just do it.” There’s a returning smile, one far brighter than the one Rhett had offered, one that Link’s been doing for just as long. It’s his way of saying, without saying, “I’d do anything you asked me to.” And when Rhett sees it, he lights up and gets into position. 

He’s blindfolded, propped on a stool pushed up against the counter. Ordinarily he’d cook standing up, but with Link as his eyes, it only makes sense to give him a Birds eye view, and Link situates himself just above Rhett’s shoulder. 

“Okay, bo,” he says, and his warm and tacky breath ghost across the delicate skin just beneath Rhett’s ear. “Looks like we’re makin’...” Link stands back to read over the instruction paper again. “... tacos? Okay. Okay we can do that. Glad they send the supplies with it. Be a nice change from peanut butter sandwiches. Never thought I’d say that.” 

Link is nervous. He’s not one for tinkering in the kitchen under normal circumstances, and certainly not with his usual counter balance blindfolded. Nonetheless, he does his best to guide Rhett with his voice, careful not to use his hands. And it’s working for the most part. There’s meat sizzling in a pan on a little camping burner. There’s cheese grated and set aside. Lettuce shredded and washed. He’s amazing. 

“I can’t believe how well you’re doin’, brother. Even at a disadvantage you’re better’n I am at it.”

If it were anyone else, Rhett would have at least faked being humble, at least for the sake of social standards. But this isn’t anyone. It’s Link. And so he preens in the praise. Soaks it up like a sponge and lets it wash over himself with a smile on his face. 

“Thanks, Link. S’only cause I’ve got good eyes,” he offers, just for the sake of offering. To give Link a little something back. Because he deserves it. 

“Shut up,” he hears back over the crackling sound of hamburger grease, but it’s anything but malicious. It’s fond and soft and sweet, and it makes Rhett’s grin even wider. 

“Okay. Now’s the danger. You gotta cut an onion. Please Rhett. Please don’t cut yourself. Don’t wanna see the blood, brother.” 

“If I cut myself you gonna kiss the booboo?” Rhett laughs, and Link does his best to fight the rigidity that’s trying to take over his muscles. 

“Sure, Rhett. Sure,” he says, because that’s better than ruining a perfectly good day. 

Rhett’s hands have been oversized for most of his life, but he has always been incredibly graceful with them. Link watches as the long fingers tap the countertop until they hit a small white onion off to the left. Then, with almost the precision of a surgeon, Rhett slowly begins to cut the vegetable into slender slices. The knife work would be impressive even if he wasn’t blindfolded at all, and somewhere in the bottom of Link’s stomach something clenches at the skill. 

“Okay, you’re doin’ great,” Link whispers. “Now, once you feel comfortable, work on dicing them up.”

Rhett nods, his face tense in concentration. He hates to admit it but Link is good at giving directions, and the praise is just a bonus. There is a tingle in his nose from the odor of the onions, and Rhett pauses for just a moment to sniff once or twice. 

“You gettin’ sentimental on me, bo?” 

“You wish, Neal. You wish.”

The ghost of Link’s laughter draws over Rhett’s skin, tacky and humid and warm, but it sends goosebumps up his neck. It’s like, like electrifying, or something more… tantalizing? Is that the right word, Rhett asks himself, but shakes it off just as quickly. Because no, no he doesn’t want anything more from this than what it is… because if there’s more… Link doesn’t want that, Rhett’s sure. If he’d wanted it… well, Rhett would have been there. And Link would have shown more of an interest early on… right? 

He doesn’t have much more time to dwell on it, because soon he runs out of onion to chop. And soon Link says the hamburger is ready to be taken from the heat. And the shells are toasted. And Rhett’s just about to turn around and take off the blind fold when- 

“We did it!” Link shrieks, and Rhett’s wrists are grabbed in long and bony fingers, hoisted above his head in victory. He laughs along with Link, thinks about how silly he is now and how silly he’s always been. And how his humor has always made Rhett feel so light and airy, like he walks on clouds when Link is near. 

And then. And then Link’s hands are gone from Rhett’s wrists, and instead his arms are around his chest as he hugs him from the back. And then. And then. And then there’s lips on Rhett’s cheek. Soft and sweet and nothing but chaste. But Rhett freezes. And so does Link. 

“I’m sorry,” Link starts, sharp and fast and full of regret, and he’s almost pulled away when it’s Rhett’s turn to grab at Link blindly.

There’s, there’s too much to think about, so Rhett shuts his mind down. Lets it go blank and black and just cuts the power. He lets his body do the thinking, lets his muscles take over. And there’s no hesitation when his roaming hands find the back of Link’s neck and he pulls him down and in. 

Lips on lips, with nothing to consider but how soft they are. Link gasps at the connection, because that makes sense to do. There’s nothing to prepare him for this. For his best friend to be placing his mouth against his, and yet here they are. 

There’s not much to kissing Link for Rhett. It’s like, well, maybe if he’d left his brain on to analyze there would be more. But as is, it feels comfortable and safe and maybe even familiar. 

And just as his brain fights for dominance again, and Rhett drops Link from his hold and he pulls away and rips his blindfold off, he realizes that’s a lie. It wasn’t familiar. It wasn’t safe. It wasn’t comfortable. 

It was fucking electrifying. And intense. And hot. And addictive. And wonderful. And powerful. And completely forbidden. Link shows all of what Rhett is feeling on his own face. Surprise and confusion. Warmth and the edge of something dangerous and needful. 

“I’ll be right back,” Rhett murmurs and side steps a very shell shocked Link, and locks himself in the restroom to stare at his own reflection with wide and regretful eyes. 


	9. Chapter 9

They have never been uncomfortable like this before, and yet here both of them are. The tiny inflatable mattress now as huge as an island between them. The edges of their bed their own private place to figure out what the fuck that _actually_ was that happened.

Link repeats the actions in his own head until he can play the scene frame by frame like an old fashioned movie. One moment Link is Rhett’s eyes and slowly telling him what to chop up next for the tacos. The next moment, Rhett and he are congratulating each other on cooking the food. The next moment Rhett is close. Way way too close and then lips. _Rhett’s_ lips on his skin just like some sort of daydream turned real in the blink of an eye.

The look of shock in Rhett’s face was enough for Link to know that it had been a mistake. A momentary flip in the universe that started with tacos and ended with not being able to say anything to the other for what stretched on like decades. It seemed that any progress that they had made had vanished in the span of that kiss, and all that was left was this. Two men on a mattress pretending to sleep. Pretending that the cameras around them were not capturing every single awkward twist of their limbs. Pretending that they were still just Rhett and Link, best friends and buddy rolls and silly puns. Nothing more. 

Even in the dank darkness of their shared bedroom and Rhett’s locked up eyelids, he can feel Link’s eyes bore onto him. Cratering out the side of his face. Burning it with a searing gaze. He doesn’t have to see it to just know- know that Link’s never looked at him that way before, and hopefully he never will again. Because it’s probably disgust. It’s probably hatred. It’s probably like Link is beyond mortified that Rhett...that he would do that. Without provocation. _Stupid_. He’s stupid, and he probably just ruined their friendship. Their business. Their entire fucking lives. 

He lays there like that, wallowing in self loathing, feeling the same radiation off of Link for god knows how long. Too long. And finally, finally he has to open his eyes. He can’t take it anymore. He’s going to confront it head on. 

But when he finally pries his eyes open, peeling back the layers of self preservation- Link isn’t looking at him like he thought. The lighting is dim, so much so that he has to squint, but Link’s asleep. Mouth open and relaxed. 

Well good. That’s good for him. He deserves it. He didn’t do anything wrong; not to Rhett, anyway. No. If anyone should be awake it should be Rhett. He should be made to feel uncomfortable. Unwelcome. He-

He stumbles up to his feet with a quiet grunt. He’ll sleep in a kitchen chair or maybe the floor. He’ll give Link space. He can do that. For him. 

He’s to his feet. Aching knees and sweaty palms. He almost to the door. Almost. 

“Where you goin’?” He hears softly behind him, and again his eyes snap shut and his mouth falls into a hard line. 

“I’m… um, just gonna be out here for a little bit,” Rhett mumbles and thumbs towards the kitchen. There isn’t enough light for Link to see him, he assumes, but if he keeps his hands still he’s going to lose his mind. He needs… god, he needs to expel some of this pent up energy, somehow. 

“Won’t be able to sleep if you go,” Link yawns, and though he can’t see him, Rhett can hear the grumble of the air mattress, the sticky sound of the rubber shifting around beneath him. And it’s sweet. The way he says it; like Rhett hasn’t ruined their whole world with his carelessness. Almost like he’s already forgiven him. 

This is somehow another breaking point in a sea of breaking points. Yet another reason why Rhett can’t look at himself in the mirror regardless of his mood or the way that his mind is figuring out what the fuck it wants. And all of this extra time and lessening space in between them is really not helping at all. Rhett didn’t need to think about Link in any other way than he always had. The little boy who he smiled at in detention all those years ago. Back when both of them giggled at dirty misspelled words on the tops of wooden desks. 

Then at some point there had been an abrupt shift in the universe, and Rhett finds himself more and more needing to find more important things to do with his hands and thoughts. The way that Link smiles at him when he wants to share a private moment around the crew has taken on a heated edge that Rhett’s heart had not been ready for at all. Maybe it all changed when Link cut his hair, or started wearing the GMM merch just one size tighter? 

And this is _before_ Link had confessed his interest in men. If it had been difficult before not to destroy what they had together, that admission did so much more. Slightly dirty ideas had grown into full-fledged wet dreams for Rhett. He could barely keep enough kleenex on his bedside table for as many times as he let his mind enjoy the parts of Link that he had for so many years taken for granted. The glittering eyes and that incredibly big mouth. 

“Rhett? Everything ok?”

What’s there to say? Even in the darkness he can see the shift in Link’s positioning; gone from calm and relaxed to upright and fighting with the blanket. He’s worried, clearly. But not as worried as Rhett. Rhett, who opens and closes his mouth like an ignorant little floundering fish. Rhett, who's heart is attempting to beat from his chest. Rhett, who's world is crumbling to pieces chunk by pathetic fucking chunk. Rhett, who’s on the verge of tears and he doesn’t know how to stop them. 

“Fine,” he manages, and it almost passes as level and cool, he thinks. But before Link can analyze it, Rhett’s off like a bullet toward the bathroom. 

The toilet isn’t exactly the best place to sit and think, but it’s the only place with a solid door and solid distance and solid solitary peace. He collapses onto it in a huff, long and dexterous fingers sliding into the tangled hair atop his head. His eyes close, shut so tight that they start to sting. He’s trying, hoping against hope that maybe if he never opens them again, the tears’ll stay firmly behind his lids. Maybe. Maybe. 

“Rhett?” He hears, soft as a newborn kitten’s fur on the other side of the door. “Can I come in, brother?”

It’s stupid, really, that Rhett shakes his head. Link can’t see him. Link can’t hear the whimper in the base of his throat. Link can’t know the extent of his breakdown. 

“Listen,” he tries again when he doesn’t get an answer. “I know you’re panicking. You don’t have to. I know you just made a mistake. Know you didn’t mean it. It’s…” he sighs, and the door creaks with his weight leaned against it. “You don’t feel for me… like, like that. I get it, Rhett. I’m not lookin’ for you to put a ring on it. S’all okay. I promise. We’re okay. Just. Can you please talk to me? I can’t lose you again.” 

And then, softer, “please?” 

Rhett feels once more something break inside him at the plea. Not only that it’s his actions and words that make Link believe that pleading is needed, but that somewhere deep within the back of Rhett’s own mind that he should be the one that is begging. Begging on his knobbly knees. Maybe holding his head up and asking for forgiveness for all that’s happened to the man on the other side of the door. The other side of the world if Rhett really settled into his emotions. 

“You can’t lose what was always yours, bo.”

And like that, there is a rattle of the doorknob and Link is rushing in. His face red with tears and hands outstretched and bending down to hug Rhett so tightly that there is a gasp of breath from both of their lips. It burns them both. This feeling of sorrow and relief and tenderness misplaced and shattered. Rhett almost forgets that there are cameras just outside of the bathroom. There to record the before and after of whatever this is. 

“I’m sorry…” Rhett says. The rest of the words are swallowed up in the side of Link’s neck. Rhett inhales the slightly salty scent of Link’s skin before he has had a chance to shower. The faint smell of sweat and residual aftershave. Rhett could live in this aroma forever, if Link decided to never let him go. 

Instead of replying, Link hugs him tighter, because of course he does. That’s exactly what Rhett needed him to do, and Link always knows what Rhett really needs. Even when Rhett is convinced otherwise. When he is so angry at something Link is insisting on that he wants to throw things. To scream at him. Link always picks the best actions for what Rhett needs. Just like Rhett always says the words that Link needs to hear. 

Words and actions. The two words as connected as them. Rhett and Link. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he goes on, whispering into Link’s pulse point. There are a lot of ways he could move, a lot of ways that he could disconnect and try to salvage something here- some little semblance of their friendship- but he doesn’t. If only he’d just move his head a little to the side, he’d get fresh air instead of fresh Link, but he’s unwilling and unable to comply with his own war torn mind. 

“I know,” Link assures, because he always does so. Always tells Rhett that his half backed ideas aren’t so bad, that his stupid little jokes are funny, and most importantly; that he’s okay even when he isn’t. And that’s just what he’s doing now. “We’re okay, Rhett. It… I mean, shit happens, I guess.”

“That was some heavy shit,” Rhett rumbles, and Link laughs quietly in response. 

“Yeah, maybe that shit doesn’t normally happen. But, y’know, there’s a lot of… stuff. With us. Right now. And… and I guess it’s okay that things aren’t quite normal yet. They might not be for a little while. But just… I’m here with you, okay? Even if things are weird right now. I’ve still got your back. Always will.”

He says the words in that soft voice he uses when Rhett doesn’t feel good. Deep and quiet with an over pronounced (cute) little lisp. When he has a headache or a particularly bad day. It’s soothing, it’s good, but it also shows just how delicate he thinks Rhett is. 

Rhett pulls him closer, if that’s even possible. Grabs the crew neck of his t shirt and clutches it like Link might blow away if he doesn’t. He takes in deep shuddering breaths, and he thinks just maybe, Link is breathing in the same shaky way that he is. There’s a strength in going through a storm with a partner, and god is he ever thankful for it. 

“I love you,” he says before he can even really hear the words. And when he does his heart speeds up so quickly that he thinks it might break his ribs. 

Link takes in a breath, probably to call Rhett an idiot, or tell him to get a fucking grip, so before he can say anything of the sort, Rhett adds, “brother.” And he’s satisfied when Link lets the air back out, deflating from his sure rage. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are back! Thank you for staying with the story.Comments and encouragement are always welcomed! <3

They have been quiet for the last day. At least, Rhett thinks that another day as past. Even now it’s getting harder and harder to judge time. Most of the hours he spends either sleeping or reading. His long legs stretched out in front of him as he sits in one of the few chairs in the kitchen. Link takes the opposite approach and seems to be moving around the small rooms with the sir of a man who has misplaced an item that he needs continue to properly function. His blue eyes glancing from place to place with a spark of desperation that gives Rhett an unsettled feeling in his bones. 

Rhett is used to this manic part of Link. It’s a coping mechanism that he has witnessed since they were kids. Usually it manifests itself in cleaning or organizational binges. Rhett recalls one time after a really bad break up with Link’s first college girlfriend that he had come back to their tiny apartment to find Link on his hands and knees scrubbing a red stain from a small patch of carpet in the living room. His dark hair plastered to his forehead as he muttered about a wasted security deposit and how red colored sodas should be outlawed. His shoulders had rippled then just as they do now, and Rhett realizes that while so much has changed- nothing really has. Not really. They’re still the same two boys they always were, and the old boy he once was would stop Link’s mind and body from destroying themselves cell by over exerted cell. 

“Link,” he calls with a voice like butter. It’s as soft and soothing as he can manage, almost the way he’d call to a lost puppy or a startled baby. “Link, maybe, uh, maybe we have breakfast? Sit down and talk to me for a bit.” 

Link freezes, steadies his movements just long enough to shake his head and start scrubbing at the counter. There’s an invisible stain there that’s under his skin, for him wrapped up in a vice grip that won’t let him go, and when his arm starts shaking back at it, Rhett frowns. 

“Okay, well can I help you then?” He asks instead, coming up behind Link and easily peering over his taught shoulders. 

“No!” Link squeaks, clears his throat and tries again. “No,” he says more calmly, “I can do it.” 

“Honey, I think you’re stressin’ yourself out a little too much.” 

Rhett and Link both flinch at the endearment- Rhett, shredded apart by quick and hot embarrassment, and Link by… by something else. Something else that makes him double down his efforts, really putting in the elbow grease and grunting with the effort. 

“Link…” Rhett eases, bringing a warm hand to Link’s own, an attempt to stop the frantic scrub, the undoubtedly frantic thoughts that are plaguing him enough to make him nearly hysterical. But Link’s having none of it as he rips his hand away from the contact and looks to Rhett with wide eyes. 

“I’m fine,” he says through a voice that sounds like gravel. “I’m okay.” 

A beat goes by. Almost enough time for the warmth of Rhett's hand to sink through the levels of skin and bones of Link's contact. Even the air around them seem to connect how odd the action was of Link pulling away. He never has done that before. Sure, there had been fights where items were kicked and voices raised. This is decidedly different though. Rhett and Link don't touch and then separate. 

Once or twice Rhett's mom said offhandedly to Link's mom that it was if their boys were meant to be always a unit. Beyond silly constructs of time and space. Rhett didn't get that until recently. Didn't feel it until now.

"Don't seem ok," Rhett mutters. "Then again, nothing's been ok for a long time, huh?"

Link only has enough energy left in him for a half hearted shrug. He brushes the words off just as he’s brushed all of Rhett’s attempts at reconnecting, though really, he deserves as much. 

He’s been less than the friend Link needs. Less than the shoulder he needs to lean on- and more of something else. More of the stress that’s left baggy purple lines beneath Link’s eyes. More of the weight that’s settling down on his shoulders. More of the nasty words that have left him distant. Just more of everything that’s wrong in Link’s world. 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, realizing that he’s the biggest part of the problem. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I wasn’t there when you needed me. And I’m sorry it’s just now- it’s just now dawning on me how fu-freakin’ stupid I’ve been.” 

Link doesn’t turn around, but the strain in his arm slows down just a touch, and maybe, just Maybe Rhett isn’t imagining it when Link’s head cocks to get a better listen. 

“I’ll be better. I’ll  _ do  _ better, Link. But you gotta tell me how, brother. I feel like I’m drownin’ here.” 

Rhett watches the smaller set of shoulders sag in something so close to defeat that he can’t keep himself still. Instead he leans forward and touches the small of Link’s back. Somehow, Rhett is surprised that Link doesn’t flinch away. Instead he is a statue, and so cold that it’s almost worse than if Link had run. 

“It isn’t somethin’ that you’re ready to hear,” Link mutters back. There are barbs in the words that cut into places inside of Rhett’s chest that he didn’t think existed. Meaty parts of his soul that stung from being disturbed from the natural order of things. The way that their world always was before Link made that leap into the great unknown. A leap where Rhett wasn’t there to catch him. What kind of friend is that?

“Try me,” Rhett replies, and then there is finally movement. Link pulls away from the steady hand on the small of his back and walks out to the adjacent living room. The warmth of their touch gone, and in its place something cold and vacant. 


End file.
